


Play Me Something

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Gen, Grey Wardens, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her hand was soft on his wound, caressing over his torn flesh, more of a balm than her magic. Fenris looked up and into her eyes, and it was over for him.</p>
<p>Fenris and Bethany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Me Something

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Play Me Something  
>  **Word Count:** 2052  
>  **Rating:** G  
>  **Warnings:** None  
>  **Fandom:** Dragon Age II  
>  **Pairing:** Fenris/Bethany
> 
> Written for dreadwulf on tumblr...  
> And for myself. :3

The earth that is the space between  
I’d banish it from under me  
To get to you

“One Sweet Love” - Sara Bareilles

 

Her hand was soft on his wound, caressing over his torn flesh, more of a balm than her magic. Fenris looked up and into her eyes, and it was over for him. He thought, _If I could die now, with your face the last face I would ever see, I would die a happy man_. After such a thought, how could he pretend that her touch didn’t set him on fire and her eyes didn’t melt his heart? Fenris swallowed around his pride and whispered, “Thank you.”

Bethany smiled, letting her thumb brush against his closed wound. “It’s no trouble, Fenris,” she said, “Please try to be more careful.”

Her presence didn’t shift his perception or change his opinions. Fenris still believed mages were dangerous and needed to be watched closely. He still believed that, at the end of the day, there were options opened to a mage that no other person could ever utilize. Demons, blood magic, powerful spells that rained death and destruction and wiped out hundred in mere moments. Yet, each time he looked at Bethany, he was reminded that there was sweetness and goodness to be found even in the darkest depths.

“I’m hurt,” Fenris whispered. It was late and getting cold. He stood outside of her uncle’s rundown shack with his chin resting on his chest. He expected Hawke to come out, for a million other things that could go wrong to go wrong, but nothing happened. Nothing happened except for Bethany’s gentle hands to cup his face and lift his eyes up to hers. They were strangely, wonderfully warm considering the chill in the air.

“Aren’t you always?” Bethany whispered back, her thumbs caressing his face, her eyes darker than the night but infinitely warmer. 

Fenris leaned in close, not sure what he was doing. His heart was beating hard and fast, his chest tight, his palms sweaty. He felt like a child, inexperienced, tentative, unsure of where to put his hands or how to turn his head or when to breathe when their mouths came together. Bethany let her arms drape around his neck, and she pushed herself onto the balls of her feet. Fenris held her waist, linking his fingers at the small of her back.

“My,” Bethany sighed when the kiss ended, “What will people think? Kissing a _mage_ of all people.”

“A beautiful woman,” Fenris whispered, brushing his nose against her temple. “A _good_ woman.”

“You keep talking like that and I might just invite you inside,” Bethany said. She laughed when Fenris flushed. “I suppose my brother might have a few things to say about that, however.”

“I am not afraid of Hawke,” Fenris said, but he sounded unsure.

“You shouldn’t be,” Bethany chuckled. She kissed Fenris’ nose, letting her hands cup the nape of his neck. Strange, it was such a cold night, but Fenris felt sweat building at his temples and heat spreading through his stomach and chest. “Oh,” Bethany whispered, “You said you were hurt? What’s the matter?”

“No,” Fenris said, smiling a little sheepishly, “I’m all better now.”

“You’re a snake,” Bethany said. She kissed him, hard, with her mouth open and her fingers knotted in his hair.

****

Whenever they could, Fenris and Bethany would sneak off together, for a few moments, for a handful of hours, whenever Hawke actually decided they could take time without fretting about the Deep Roads venture. Fenris invited Bethany to his manor often, where she would click her tongue distastefully at his housekeeping and pinch his sides when he flushed. 

“Do you play?” Bethany asked, nodding at the harp propped up in the corner of the sitting room. Fenris shrugged noncommittally. “A bit,” he said, “Though it has been years since I’ve actually attempted---”

“Play me something,” Bethany said. She took a seat and looked up at him expectantly. Her eyes might’ve appeared innocent and sweet, but there was a feisty half-smile at the corner of her lips. Fenris had a strong desire to kiss that smile and break it open with his tongue, but he settled on seating himself at the harp and running his fingers across the strings. It was dusty and the strings were stiff, but when he started playing his fingers plucked effortlessly and the music -- though a bit sharp from the stiff strings -- flowed melodiously through the manor.

When he was finished, Bethany clapped her hands. “That was lovely,” she said, “Thank you.”

“I would say a lovely woman deserves music equally as lovely,” Fenris said, “But I suppose that sounds a bit overly romantic.”

“Nonsense,” Bethany laughed, “That’s just how I like my romantics.”

Over the few weeks leading up to their trip into the Deep Roads, Fenris and Bethany were rarely apart. Hawke noticed their closeness but kept his opinions to himself, only going so far as to remark that if Fenris did anything to hurt his sister, he’d show Fenris _his_ magical fisting trick.

“Only it’s not magical,” Hawke said, “And my fist doesn’t go through your chest. What I mean to say is, if you hurt my sister, I will ram my fist up your arse.”

“I, yes,” Fenris whispered, “I understood fine, Hawke.”

When Fenris learned he wouldn’t be accompanying them into the Deep Roads, he barely managed to mask his disappointment. Bethany came to him the night before and left several thick books with him. “I expect you to practice with these every night,” she said, rather sternly, “When I return I will want to see that you’ve improved.”

“I will try,” Fenris said. He tried to imagine the next few weeks without this woman beside him and he couldn’t. It seemed silly to be so tangled up in one person, so dependent upon them for happiness and comfort, but Fenris couldn’t help himself. Bethany was in his blood now, carved into his skin as deep as his brand. “I will miss you,” Fenris whispered, with too much emotion catching in his voice. He couldn’t look at her.

“I will miss you too,” Bethany said. She moved closer to him and cradled his head against her stomach, sliding her fingers through his hair. “Just think, when we get back, we’ll have all the sovereigns we’ll need to take back our Estate. I’ll be able to buy frilly dresses and Orlesian boots with little tassels and ribbons. Perhaps I might be lovely enough to deserve another song.”

“You already are,” Fenris said. 

“Flatterer,” Bethany chuckled. She moved back from Fenris and leaned down to press a kiss against his forehead. “Just don’t... Forget to practice. I want you to read every book I left you, and work on your writing, as well. And... Well, if you’re so inclined, perhaps you might try not forgetting about me?”

Fenris wanted to tell her that wasn’t possible. It would be like forgetting half of his heart, forgetting how to hold a sword, or breathe, or speak. Instead, Fenris said, “I could never forget you.”

After all, it was only going to be a few weeks at the most. 

****

“That all all that you could do?” Fenris demanded. He held Anders by his robes, their faces bare inches apart. For the first time since they had met, Anders looked sincerely afraid of the man. “Is that all your magic is good for, mage? Sentencing her to a life of constant pain and taint?”

“It was either that or let her die,” Anders said, “Is that what you wanted me to do? Just leave her to the Deep Roads, to the _darkspawn?_ Just leave her to be their _toy_?”

“We did what we could,” Hawke said, gripping Fenris’ shoulder. There was no where for Fenris to go but into Hawke’s arms. He wasn’t sure who held whom, who needed the support. Both of them, he guessed. “She’s alive,” Hawke said, “That’s what matters, more than anything. She’s strong, she’ll survive.”

_Will I?_ Fenris wanted to ask, but he couldn’t.

****

When he saw her, everything stopped. The city was chaotic, the Qunari running wild, fire and pain and screams, but all he could see was Bethany. It had only been a few years, but she looked much older, her dark eyes wise and sharp, her mouth no longer curled with youthful good humor but a grim line carved into her face. She was everything a Warden should have been and Fenris felt his heart break for her.

“You’re safe,” Bethany said. Her eyes shifted from Hawke to Fenris. “Thank the Maker.”

“Bethany,” Fenris whispered. He swallowed, tried to put some strength into his voice. “You look... good.” 

Three years, three long, torturous years, and that was what he had to say.

They couldn’t stay, they couldn’t get involved. The Grey Wardens did not place themselves in the middle of political struggles, unless it benefited them in some way. Fenris called after Bethany. He moved towards her, forgetting the fire, forgetting the Qunari, forgetting everything but her face and her sweet voice and her gentle hands in his hair. Forgetting everything but the way she had whispered, Perhaps you might try not forgetting about me, with a girl’s hope and a girl’s fear. 

There was no girl in front of him. There was a woman hardened by time and circumstance. Still, when Fenris stopped in front of her, Bethany looked at him with those same deep, expectant eyes. 

Fenris pressed a small roll of vellum in her hand. 

“I never stopped practicing,” he whispered to her, “I never wanted to believe that I would not see you again, that I could not show you how much I have learned. Thank you for believing in me, Bethany Hawke.” Fenris kissed her temple, gently, and passed his fingers through her hair. “Thank you for loving me, if only for a little while.”

“Always,” Bethany said, “I’ve always... I always _will-_ \--”

“We need to move,” Stroud and Hawke said in unison. 

They both turned and walked away.

****  
 _I have read the books you’ve left me to tatters. My favorite was the one with the griffons, because I could imagine you as a Grey Warden of old, flying into battle and slaughtering darkspawn by the thousands. I know that they are extinct, so please do not correct me. Let me keep my imagination._

_Hawke says that my penmanship is improving, and my spelling and grammar are excellent. He tells me that I write far better correspondence than he does, though I believe this is his excuse to have me handle his mail. I am not sure why I am putting all of this down, except that what I want to say, what I truly want to say to you, is like ripping my heart out and smearing it across the paper._

_I have never forgotten you, Bethany. Not the way you smiled or the sweet way you laughed. Nor have I forgotten the light in your eyes and the goodness of your heart and the gentle way you touched me. I have not forgotten all those long nights you sat with me and read to me, or how your fingers closed on mine when I could barely hold the pen. I have not forgotten how it felt to kiss you and hold you in my arms, and I will never forget how right you felt there, how right I felt there._

_Most importantly, I will never forget how you loved me, how you were good to me. How such a beautiful creature wasted her time loving a hateful, bitter, elven slave._

_I hope that you find whatever happiness you can. I hope, too, that you find someone who will play you sweet music and who will apologize when his fingers miss the chords. As far as I know, my love, there has yet to be a song written that is lovelier than you. May he play you one well, though, and often._

_All my love,  
Fenris_

For the first time in many months, Bethany pressed her face into her hands and cried for the life she had once had, and for the girl she had once been.

And, most importantly, for the man she had left behind.


End file.
